


Ripple Effect

by Dordean



Series: Swallow's Song [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Don't copy to another site, Epilogue, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, because Ciri deserves some TLC, despite the tags this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 08:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20188990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dordean/pseuds/Dordean
Summary: She thought she had gotten over the past, that she had accepted everything that had been done to her, that she’d moved on... Falling apart in front of his eyes, she realised how wrong she had been.***An epilogue to "Blood Ties"; for it often happens that the moment we feel safe and loved, our demons come out to play.





	Ripple Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Some thirsty birbs (❤️) demanded it and my brain surprisingly delivered. Lovely beta by [meru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merulanoir/pseuds/merulanoir). 
> 
> Tread softly, for it's still my very soul. Tread carefully, for while nothing is mentioned outright, Ciri's past and resulting traumas are being addressed, and lovingly dissected.
> 
> ***Please note that I have not given my permission for my work to be posted on any third-party website or app. If you're using such apps to read my works, do be aware they may have adds and subscription features meaning their authors make money off my (and others) work without our consent.***

His lips were cool and soft; everything Ciri had dreamt of, and more. There was a reverence in his kiss that she could live with, and hesitation that she really, _really_ could not. 

She drew back and looked into his eyes.

“Regis?” she whispered; a question, a plea—she was no longer sure.

“Ciri.” He touched her cheek. “Are you certain you want to pursue this? There are roads from which there is no return; there are decisions that will forever change you, and us.”

She took a breath to calm herself. She couldn't let her impatience and recklessness talk; he would see right through her, the way he always did—besides, he deserved her complete honesty. It was absolutely crucial to get this right; he was carrying his own wounds and regrets, and she’d already added far too much to his burden.

She gave him a small, sad smile. “What I want is to be as close to you as humanly possible. Never in my life have I experienced anything like this. I still don’t even know what _this_ is. What I do know is that you are far too important to me to risk losing you over a careless whim, so if you truly think any physical dimension to our bond would ultimately hurt us… Then that's not what I want. ” She took a shaky breath, and attempted to verbalise the throbbing, quiet ache deep in her heart. “But if not… I likely won't have much of such love in the future.”

“You will have me in whatever capacity our respective circumstances allow,” Regis offered quietly, cupping her face in his hands. “I promise.”

“Thank you, vampire,” she turned her head a little to press a kiss into his palm. “And it means the world. It's just difficult to know what those circumstances will be. I don’t even know when I’ll see you next.”

“I’ll find you as soon as I’m certain it’s safe.” 

“Exactly,” Ciri grimaced. “Who knows when that’s going to be. Your kind isn’t particularly bothered by the passage of time; _immediately_ can mean anything. And I used up all the leverage I had just to convince your vampire friend to cooperate.”

“This plan of yours still worries me deeply,” Regis said with a frown. “The thought you’d be risking so much, and for me—”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ciri jerked her head up, and glared at him. “It’s three times now that you have saved my life. Three times, Regis, that I am here solely because of you. Not to mention all your help and advice. What I proposed doesn’t feel even remotely adequate to the scope of my debt to you.”

“Ciri—”

“Vampire,” she interrupted him in her royal voice she was getting more and more comfortable using. “It’s done. It’s promised. End of discussion.”

“You’re mad. _Your Grace_.” When he smiled she knew that she won.

“And that's a surprise to whom exactly?” She grinned, running her fingers down his cheek. “Besides, isn’t this one of those charming qualities of mine you keep referencing?”

He chuckled quietly and cupped her face again.

“I will miss you dearly, Swallow.”

Her heart in the throat, she grabbed his wrists.

“And I will miss you, vampire. Desperately.”

He kissed her then, again, and she melted against him, her blood singing. 

His fingers traced some invisible lines on her skin, the touch infinitely soft and loving, like she was the most precious and fragile thing. She was about to protest, to point out she didn't want to be treated like some delicate princess, that it wasn't who she was and what she needed—when, to her horror, she started crying.

Hot, bitter tears ran down her cheeks, spilling out from some dark corners of her being like pus from an infected wound, and much as she tried, she couldn’t stop them. Mortified, she made a move to turn away, but he just pulled her closer with the same gentleness as before, pressed a kiss to her hair, and simply held her in his arms.

She abandoned any pretence of a struggle and clung to him, face buried in his chest, shaking with ugly, uncontrollable sobs. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images she had thought she’d forgotten, the memories she'd buried deep never to touch again were now forcing their way to the forefront of her mind. She thought she had gotten over the past, that she had accepted everything that had been done to her, that she’d moved on...

Falling apart in front of his eyes, she realised how wrong she had been.

“I’m so sorry,” she managed once she got her voice under some control. “This wasn’t… It wasn’t meant to be all about me _again_…”

“Swallow.” Regis pulled back a little and gently ran his thumb along her scar. “You said you wanted to be as close as humanly possible.” He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She blinked away the tears. “You _are_, right at this very moment.”

The words combined with the kindness and love in his gaze made her shaky composure collapse all over again. Without another word, Regis tightened his embrace, his hand curled in her hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he said quietly after a long moment, once her sobs abated a little. She took a shaky breath; the prospect of telling him about all her struggles and all the mistakes she'd made was mortifying, but the words spilled out of her unexpectedly, the way her tears had just moments earlier.

In a voice that kept faltering, and pausing often to gather thoughts, or courage, she told him everything: of Kayleigh and Mistle; of Vilgefortz’—and Emhyr’s—plans for her; of Auberon, Eredin and the Aen Elle's demands; of Avallac'h. Of some of the men and women she had been with in an attempt to forget, to normalise it all somehow, to prove to herself that these things didn't hurt anymore, that they didn't break her. That the past no longer had any power over her.

A childish and mostly futile attempt, as she was slowly coming to realise. 

Regis listened without a word, without a hint of judgement. His arms around her were like a cocoon of tenderness, sheltering her, giving her a safe space to be vulnerable, to grieve; grounding her in the midst of the emotional storm she unleashed onto herself.

Once she ran out of words and tears both, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Does anyone else know?” he asked softly.

Ciri shook her head, struggling to steady her breathing. “Only parts of it. Before, there had been so many things happening at once… And after I returned, the Hunt was a slightly more pressing issue than my personal life.” She let out a broken chuckle. “Besides, Geralt would have attempted to murder Avallac'h, and I couldn't bear to lose him.”

“I imagine he'd come for me next,” Regis joked, and Ciri had to smile. 

“He loves you. He won't. And if he does, he'll have to go through me first.”

He chuckled softly, but the mirth was gone as he looked into her eyes.

“What should be about joy, about the beauty of connection with another, was made into a tool to hurt you, and use you in the worst imaginable ways,” he said in a quiet voice. “You cannot reclaim that beauty and joy through empty acts without meaning; you cannot learn new patterns without trust, without intimacy. That is not the way. And in your heart, you know this already.” He placed a fleeting kiss on her lips. “You being here with me is a testimony to that.”

Ciri was silent as she digested his words. 

“Are you saying…” She took a breath as a fresh wave of shame threatened to swallow her. “Are you saying my traumas are the reason why I'm drawn to you?”

Regis caressed her cheek.

“Your past shaped who you are and you cannot help that. All you can do is to be aware of how it influences your actions, and choose the paths that will allow you to heal.”

“I… I thought I did.” She looked away to escape his gaze. Maybe this really was all there was to it: her traumas driving her to take advantage of his care for her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Swallow.” His fingers on her chin made her turn back to him. “You crave the depth, the connection. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He kissed her then, the infinite gentleness still present in his every touch, washing away some of the confusion and hurt, and another sob escaped her.

“How do you do this?” she whispered against his lips.

“Do what?”

“See me as I am, the ugliest parts and all, and yet… Despite everything… You’re still here.” Her voice faltered. “You love me still.” 

“I could ask you the same question,” Regis pointed out softly. 

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, though it had less of an impact in a voice hoarse from crying. “You’re the kindest, the most caring person I know. I’m a selfish brat—”

“You are a brilliant flame that refuses to be extinguished by anyone, or anything.” With his gaze fixed on hers, it felt as if he was dissecting her very soul. “And despite all the evil that’s been done to you, you didn't let it poison you.”

“I did, though,” she grimaced as another wave of memories came. “I did let it poison me. I have far too much blood on my hands.”

“You seem to be forgetting that I used to kill people for entertainment.” His eyes were burning with that inhuman intensity again and the sight of it sent a shiver down her spine. Gods, but she loved him—and that was _not_ the trauma talking. 

“We grow, Swallow. We change. And the only thing we can do is to keep moving forward, taking the past with us, with all its hurt and joy, and learn from it. You, I, _us_—we’re no longer who we used to be even mere months ago.”

Her breath hitched; instead of an answer she pulled him into a kiss and deepened it straightaway, the need to touch him, to feel him against her, silencing any other thoughts. 

He followed, any remaining traces of hesitation gone; the tenderness still there, but with an undercurrent of _need_ that set her blood on fire. 

“I love you,” Ciri breathed, leaning into his touch as his fingers began to slowly disrobe her, one button at the time, and his lips followed, tracing the slow progress and caressing every inch of exposed skin. 

“And I love you, my brilliant flame,” he whispered, his touch making her head spin. It felt as if he literally could read everything that was on her mind, so focused he was on her, reacting to her each sigh, her smallest movement.

But making it all about her, her traumas and her pleasure, was the last thing Ciri wanted. She pulled him back towards her and kissed him impatiently, before she began her own slow exploration, her fingers hungrily running along his bare skin. Her lips moved to his neck, and as she caressed the soft spot just under his ear he let out the most delicious sound and claimed her lips again, his claws digging into her flesh.

He kissed a trail down her neck, nibbling at her collarbone, his sharp teeth sending a bolt of heat right through her at this raw reminder of his nature. He moved to her breasts, his claws teasing the soft skin, and she stifled a gasp and dug her nails into his back. He let out a grunt at that, his touch now gloriously possessive, his grip whispering of his inhuman strength. 

A part of her still couldn’t quite understand how this magnificent, powerful being could see anything worthy of attention in her. She couldn't comprehend what had caused their paths to cross and weave together so tight that he was with her, here and now; that he was _hers_… 

But his lips and tongue made her quickly forget all that, leaving only delight as she gave herself over to him. And once he claimed her, his burning eyes locked on hers again, the sensation of being one with him was everything she’d wanted; the feeling of _belonging_ crashed over her like a wave over a rock, so overwhelming it brought tears to her eyes. 

“_Regis_,” she let out a soft cry as the love and pleasure flooded her senses.

“Ciri,” he echoed, one of his hands cupping her face, his voice so full of emotions her heart felt like it was about to burst. She arched into him as the release came, feeling him succumb to his own pleasure right after; the words he whispered, the words she cried redrawing the shapes of her, of them. 

It felt like the end of everything she knew, her entire world crumbling around her, only to rebuilt itself into a different form in the soft silence that followed. She clung to him, cherishing every last moment of this indescribable harmony the like of which she had never experienced, or even thought possible. 

Regis kissed away the trails her tears had left and held her against his chest, his soft hair tickling her cheek. Curled up in his arms, she listened to the slow beating of his heart, and a small part of her mind kept wondering just when did he become irreplaceable in her life; just when did she cross the line behind which the definitions blurred and lost all meaning. 

She knew he was picking up on the echoes of her thoughts and emotions so she let them flow freely, and in response, his embrace tightened even more, his breath hitching.

_“I love you. Vampire_.”

Tomorrow, she would face the world, alone; she would face the consequences of her choices, and the future they would bring. 

Tonight, he was all that mattered. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Annabelle for all the essays about these two, and for inspiring me to get this out into the world. ❤️


End file.
